


everything's gonna be okay

by sebi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebi/pseuds/sebi
Summary: "you're coming to live with me.""what?"in which steve and bucky end up in brooklyn again... together... on steve's orders.





	everything's gonna be okay

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't actually intend for this ever to be published anywhere when i started it a while ago, but i guess here we are.

The door creaked open, the golden early morning light shining into the dim apartment. I sat on the worn mattress on the floor that was serving as a makeshift bed until I could afford a better bed. It wasn’t so bad. The blankets were thin, and I was cold a lot, sure, but I had food, water, and my notebooks. The plums I’d recently bought from the vendor on the next block over were sitting in their plastic bag on the little counter in the run-down kitchenette. I looked up from the notebook I was writing in to see who had opened the door.

“Bucky?” I knew that voice. Shit. It was Steve. “Buck, is this where you live?”

I placed the pen inside the page I was on, placed the notebook down on the mattress, and stood, shoving my hands into the pockets of the jeans I’d been wearing for three days. “Yeah. It’s not as bad as it looks. I promise.” I handed him the knife from my belt. He gave me a confused look, but took it anyways.

“Not as bad as it looks? Bucky, why didn’t you tell me this is how you were living?”

“I’m fine here! I just go about my business, don’t talk to anyone. I’m fine, I swear.” I rocked back and forth on my feet, not making eye contact with Steve.

“Do you even have a bathroom?”

“Yeah. It’s over there if you need it.” I gestured to the slightly opened door behind me to my right.

Steve was silent for a few moments, then he spoke up again. “Bucky, do you have a job?”

“Can’t get one. Too dangerous apparently.” I looked up at Steve. Disappointment was written all over his face. “I tried, Steve. I did. I applied, even went in for an interview. I put on my nicest shirt, showered, combed my hair. I really tried, Steve. They didn’t even let me talk. Soon as they saw my arm they said I was too dangerous to work for them.”

Steve sighed. “You can’t live like this, jobless, practically homeless. How’re you getting money to pay for the rent anyhow?”

“I don’t,” I whispered, dropping my gaze to the ground. “This building isn’t really in use anymore. I found it, and it was free, so I made it home.”

“I’m staying with you tonight to see how you live.”

My head snapped up. “What? I’m fine by myself.”

“I wanna see how you live.”

No, no, no. He couldn’t stay here. This couldn’t happen. He’d kill me if he knew. He was probably already gonna kill me whether he knew or not, but I couldn’t let him near me while I slept.

“I am, and that’s final.” Once again, I didn’t have a choice. That was fine. I couldn’t make my own choices anyways. Steve grabbed my hand, voice softening. “I’m worried about you, Buck. It’s only been a few weeks since they—”

“Since they put my brain in a blender again, those little shits. I know.” I sighed, sitting back down on the mattress and running my hand through my greasy long hair. “I lost it all again. I don’t remember us. I remember the screams of the terrified, innocent people as the Winter Soldier was about to kill them or their families. I remember the pain of training so I could be the Winter Soldier. I remember being used and abused again and again.”

Steve sat down beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ll remember again. Remember last time? You were able to remember some things again. You started to recover.”

I shook him off, my hand resting on the handgun on my hip. “No, Steve, I don’t fucking remember last time! I have no clue what you’re talking about because I can’t fucking remember anything! I remembered who you are because I wrote it down beside your photo in my notebook. I remembered my name because I wrote it down in my notebook. Everything I have the chance of remembering is in these notebooks.” I held up my backpack filled with notebooks of memories. I wrote down every dream, every nightmare, every flashback, everything that might be a memory, all in hopes of piecing my life together again.

Steve wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Okay, okay. Bucky, you’re gonna come live with me.”

“I don’t need to,” I protested weakly. “I just remembered you enough to let you near me. I’m not moving into your house.”

“Please, Bucky. You’re not mentally stable enough to be living on your own.”

“I’m better off living alone where I can’t hurt anyone! I’m too dangerous, remember?” I laughed dryly at my own humour, but it wasn’t really humour. I believed it. I was too dangerous. The potential employer just confirmed it.

“That’s it. You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.” It looked like I didn’t have a choice. But that wasn’t really any different from normal I supposed. I never had a choice. Steve handed me back my knife, which I slid back into the sheath on my belt, picked up the notebook off the bed and shoved it into the backpack with the rest of the notebooks, then grabbed my bag of plums off the counter and handed both bags to me. “You got anything else?” I shook my head. “Alright then. We’re going.” I was about to protest, but realising there was no use, I followed the man I barely knew out the door, glancing back for a moment at the place I’d called home for the past few weeks before leaving for good.

************

He drove us in a small black car, neither of us speaking the whole time. Music from the 30s and 40s played quietly in the background. I recognised the songs, but I didn’t know why I recognised them.

It wasn’t until we pulled up in front of a brick apartment building that Steve said a word. “Well, Buck, we’re home.”

“Not my home. Your home.” I didn’t want him to think that I was happy he’d brought me here.

“No, it’s now your home too.” Steve got out of the car, walked around to the passenger’s side, and opened my door for me. “Let’s go inside, buddy.” I stopped for a second. My head got all woozy and I stared at the ground outside the car. “Buddy? You okay?”

There it was again. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please don’t call me that,” I whispered. I didn’t like the lightheaded feeling that name gave me.

“Okay. I won’t call you that.” He was sad; I could hear it in his voice, but he put on a smile and said: “Why don’t we go inside now?” I nodded and followed him inside, not even pretending I had a choice in what I did, backpack securely on my back and bag of plums clutched in my right hand, my human hand. The fingers on the metal one drummed on an invisible tabletop, silently tapping out their own rhythm. I was made to obey orders. I knew nothing but obedience, so I followed.

Steve’s apartment was nicer than anything I’d ever seen. The floors were carpeted in a grey carpet that was so soft on your feet. It was like I’d stepped onto pillows. His walls were painted a wonderful pale grey-blue, and the window panes were black. I stopped in the centre of the room.

“You… you live here?”

Steve placed his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, bud, and now you do too.” It was back again, that lightheaded feeling. I ignored it, let it pass, and then let Steve lead me to the kitchen counter. I sat when he pulled out the chair. He rested his folded hands on the counter, leaning against the stone. He was awful close. “What would you like to drink? I have milk, water, juice, coffee…” I stared at him. I didn’t know how to make choices. I wasn’t capable of making my own choices. “Bucky?” He leaned closer, so I pulled my knife from my belt, placing it on the counter in front of him. I was dangerous. Those were the rules.  _ Always arm whomever you’re with if they are not already armed. You are dangerous, and you are inferior. _ That was what they told me. I was dangerous. “Bucky, take your knife back. I don’t know why it’s on the counter, but I don’t want it.” I pushed it further towards him. He needed to be armed. I was dangerous. “Bucky! I’m serious. Put the knife away. We’re safe here.”

I shook my head and placed my handgun on the table with the gun. “They’re for you.”

He sighed. “I don’t need or want your weapons. Put them away, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Without thinking, I did as told. I put the knife and handgun back into their places on my belt.

Steve grabbed two glasses from the cabinet above a row of painted jars of what I assumed were flour and sugar. “What would you like to drink?” I dropped my head onto my folded arms on the table. I heard Steve place the glasses on the stone countertop and shuffle around to the side where I was sitting. His arms wrapped around me from behind. I couldn’t help but let a tear slip. “You have a choice now, Bucky. I want you to make a choice. We’ll start slow. I know you can do it.”

“I’m sorry.” My voice was muffled in the fabric of the hoodie I’d been wearing for three days.

“It’s okay. Now, do you want water or juice?” Steve’s gentle hand rubbed comforting circles into my shoulder blades.

I shook my head, not lifting it from its place upon my forearms. “Please don’t make me do this. I don’t know what I want.” I couldn’t even remember what juice tasted like.

“No, you can do it. It’s a simple choice. Juice or water. That’s it.” Steve’s voice was encouraging, but I didn’t know what I wanted. I’d never been given a choice; people only ever ordered me around. I went on the job interview because Steve told me to. I lived here with Steve now because he told me to come with him. “Alright. We’ll work on choices later. I’ll get you some water. Ice or no ice?” I looked up at him, confused. Why would he give me another choice? He realised, and apologised quickly, saying he’d just not put ice in it.

When he brought the glass over, I guzzled it down like my life depended on it. I hadn’t had water since the night before. I got free water from the sink at the public library by filling up a plastic water bottle I’d bought a few days before. It wasn’t water people were meant to drink, but I was on the verge of passing out from dehydration, so it did its job.

“Well, you were thirsty. Would you—” he stopped himself. “I’ll get you another glass.” He smiled at me, and I tried to smile back, but his smile was more of a sad, tight-lipped smile and my smile wasn’t really a smile at all.

“I’ll only stay a couple nights, Steve.”

Steve shut off the tap. “What? No. This is your new home.”

“I’m intruding on your space. This is too nice.” I paused, voice dropping. “I don’t deserve this kind of treatment.”

Steve slid me the refilled glass of water. “Yes, you do. You deserve everything here and more. You deserve to be treated like a prince, and don’t you for one second think I won’t treat you like one.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ “Answer me, Soldat!” _

_ My mouth was covered by the muzzle they put me in. I couldn’t speak. I tried to make any noise; I tried to answer him, but I couldn’t. I knew what came next. I braced myself. Then it came. I felt the whip crack down on my bare back, reopening the wounds they’d put there yesterday. Or maybe it was two days ago. I didn’t know anymore. Pain seared through my whole body. Sharp, stinging pain everywhere. Blood dripped down my sides, hot and wet and awful, hitting the floor. Worst of all, though, were the insults they screamed at me, making sure I knew my place. I couldn’t scream out. I just sat there, shaking at every crack of the whip, my eyes leaking tears. Or maybe it was blood on my cheeks. I didn’t know anymore. _

_ “Bucky!” That voice was new. “Bucky, wake up!” _

I startled awake, metal hand grasping at my hip for the knife that always sat strapped against my thigh. A human hand stopped me.

“Bucky, it’s okay,” said the voice. I turned my head to the left. Steve.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, bud, it’s me. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m right here.” Steve reached out a hand and gently carded it through my sweaty hair, pulling it from my face.

I sighed and let myself relax back into the bed. “Stevie,” I whispered.

Steve let out a small gasp. “You haven’t… you haven’t called me that since the war…” The war? I tried to remember a war, but nothing was coming to mind. 

I smiled sleepily up him. “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

“Alright, I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me. You remember where that is?” I shook my head. I barely knew where I was right now. All I knew was that I had a bed again for the first time in years, and that Steve had let me sleep in a bed for nearly a week now. “Really? We went over this again before you went to bed, Buck. You know what? I’ll just sleep here with you tonight in case you have another nightmare.” The bed dipped as Steve climbed in beside me. I rolled over to give him space, my back facing him.

“Bucky. My name is Bucky,” I mumbled under my breath. I needed to get used it again. “Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.”

Steve rubbed my back. “That’s right, Buck.” He continued to rub my back until I fell asleep again.

************

When I woke again, I was trapped. Something was wrapped tightly about my waist. My first instinct was to move as much as possible to shake whatever it was off of me. So that’s what I did. Whatever it was just held on tighter, pushing me down to the bed again.

“Shh… Bucky, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Steve?” I rolled over. He was there, blond hair shining golden in the early morning sun, blue eyes pale and twinkling in the light.

“Yeah, bud. It’s me. It’s Steve.” He reached his hand out and tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind my ear.

“You stayed?” He nodded. “Why? Why would you stay?”

“Because I care, Buck. You had a nightmare last night, and you looked so scared. I didn’t want you to be scared anymore.”

I dropped my head back onto the pillow. “I don’t wanna be scared anymore either.”

“And you don’t have to be.” He sat up and patted my shoulder. “Why don’t we get some breakfast? I’ll make your favourite.”

I didn’t want to ask, but I didn’t remember having a favourite breakfast food. I didn’t remember the last time I’d had anything for breakfast. My eating habits were all over the place the week I’d been here. “Uh, Steve?” He hummed in response. “What’s my favourite breakfast food?”

The look he gave me broke whatever was left of my heart. He wanted me so badly to be able to remember things. I remembered a lot of the big things, or at least I thought I did. Apparently there was some war that I still don’t remember, but at least I remember Steve. I remember his mum’s name was Sarah. I remember that Sarah was so nice. She used to let me check up on Steve whenever I wanted to see him.

“Pancakes, Buck. I’ll make ‘em for you. You remember where the shower is?”

“Somewhere in this massive place, I’d assume. Unless you like to shower at your neighbour’s apartment or something.”

My comment made Steve smile. I made Steve smile. “I already… I’ll just show you again.” He stood, joints popping as his stretched. His white tee-shirt slipped, revealing the soft skin on his back. I followed suite, sitting up and stretching, but when I stretched, the shirt I was wearing rode up and all it revealed was my sickly looking waist and bony hips. When I looked up at Steve, he was staring at me with a worried look on his face. “Buck…”

“I know. I’m ugly and disgusting.”

“No, no you’re not, Bucky. You’re just… you’re so skinny…” His voice trailed off, and I tugged my shirt back down to cover my body. I didn’t want him to see it. He started out the door, and I followed.

The hallway was rather narrow, cream coloured walls with pictures and paintings hanging at eye level. I scanned the photographs hanging on the walls until I came to one in particular that caught my eye. There were two young men in the photo. One was blond and smaller. He looked like he’d break if the wind blew, but the smile on his face could’ve made flowers grow and birds sing. The young man standing next to him had darker hair, cropped short. He was wearing a military uniform. He was smiling, too, but his eyes screamed mischief and love, which I could only assume was for the blond standing next to him.

“Hey, Steve.” I tapped his shoulder. “Who are these people?”

“That’s you and me, Buck. That was taken right before you were shipped off to join the 107th.” He placed his hand on my shoulder from where he stood behind me. I was pretty sure he kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. The dark haired man in the photo was me. I didn’t believe that, but Steve knew better than I did. I supposed when I looked closer, the man did sort of look like me. I hadn’t looked in a mirror in a long time, but I’d seen my reflection in the mirror on the wall of the library toilets. He had the same nose, the same lips, maybe even the same eyes. But the man in the photo had brighter eyes than I did; they had more life in them, more energy, more hope.

“Are you sure that’s me?”

“That’s you alright. All handsome and happy.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember how to be that man for you.”

Steve slung his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t apologise. I don’t need to have that man back. I have you back in my life, and that’s all I ask for. Why don’t you have a shower, and I’ll make pancakes and get you some clothes to change into.” I nodded and let him lead me to the bathroom.

He showed me how to run the water and where I should put my dirty clothes, and then he left, telling me he’d leave some clean clothes and a clean towel on the counter while I was in the shower. I stripped out of my dirty clothes, dropping them in the basket where he said to put them, then turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up. I took the time to look at the bathroom. Steve was doing well. He had a pretty apartment with photographs and paintings in the hallway, a window in the kitchen where the sunlight came in all day long and you could see the sun set over the city, and a bathroom with pretty navy blue tiling and a good sized shower.

The door opened behind me, and I jumped. “Bucky? I brought some clothing.” He must’ve seen me then because he gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry… I didn’t realise… I’ll just, I’ll just leave these here…” I looked over my shoulder to see where he was putting the towel and clothing. He smiled up at me, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He turned to go, but I put my hand out to stop him.

“Wait — do you have a razor I could borrow? I haven’t shaved in a few days.”

“Yeah, I do. You get in the shower, and I’ll get it for you. I’m sure the water is warm enough now.”

I hung my head, but obeyed and stepped into the shower, warm water cascading down my bare body. “I’m sorry I’m so ugly,” I whispered. I wanted to be pretty for Steve. I wanted to remember how to be who Steve wanted me to be. I heard Steve’s voice telling me that he was placing the razor by the sink and that if I needed any help with it, I should just call for him.

I took probably about thirty minutes in the shower, and when I opened the curtain to find the towel, I stepped out into a cloud of steam so thick I could barely see the mirror. I quickly dried myself off with the towel, then used it to wipe the steam from the mirror after I dressed myself in Steve’s clothing. I looked better than I did before the shower, but the clothes didn’t fit right on me. The tee-shirt hugged my biceps but was loose on my waist; the trousers were too tight on my thighs, basically confirming what I already knew. I was gross. I searched the counter for the razor, but I didn’t see one. The only thing on the counter other than toothbrushes and toothpaste was a weird looking round thing with a cord and metal circles on the top of it.

“Steve!” I shouted to get his attention. “I can’t find the razor!”

There was some clattering, then quick footsteps, and then the door opened. “It’s— Jeez, Buck, how long did you shower for? It’s like a sauna in here!”

“Thirty minutes maybe? My hair was kinda tangled, so I had to wash it like three times. But now I can’t find the razor.”

Steve picked up the weird thing with metal circles on top. “It’s right here.”

“I don’t know what that is, but it’s not a razor. A razor is a blade. Speaking of blades, where’s my knife? I can use it to shave.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “No, no, no. You’re not shaving with your knife.”

“Why not?” I didn’t see anything wrong with shaving with my knife. I’d been doing exactly that for the past few weeks, so what was so bad about it now?

“You’ll cut yourself!”

“I’ve been shaving with it for the past few weeks, and I have yet to cut myself.”

He ignored me and plugged the cord into the outlet. “So, first you’re gonna turn it on. Then—”

I ran my hand along the scruff on my jawline. “Can I just have a cut throat? They’re so much easier to use.”

“No, would you please stop asking? I don’t want you cutting yourself, Bucky.”

“Yes, sir.” I shut my mouth. Steve turned on the electric razor and brought it to my face. He had decided he was shaving my face for me, I supposed. I stood still while he touched the thing to my face. I closed my eyes, trying to take deep breaths. Something about this whole situation was making me nervous. I wasn’t sure whether it was the razor or the fact that Steve was extremely close to my face, shaving for me.

He gently touched my cheek. “Turn please, Buck.” I obeyed, rotating so he could shave the other side. He continued, hands gentle, the soft whirring of the electric razor and our breathing being the only sounds. When he finished, he rubbed some moisturiser into my skin. I wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing. He was so focussed, but it was like he wasn’t registering exactly what he was doing; he was just going through the motions of shaving as he normally does, except he was shaving my face instead of his own. “There you go.” He stepped back and let me look in the mirror. It was like a whole different man was staring back at me. My hair, still hanging down to my shoulders, was no longer tangled and dirty; it was soft and silky, shining in the light. My face had no dirt smudged over the skin and caught in the small beard I’d begun to grow. I was clean and freshly shaven.

“I, I… thank you.”

“No problem, Buck. You ready for some pancakes?”

I’d completely forgotten that he’d made breakfast. “Yeah. I haven’t had a real breakfast in a long time.”

Steve smiled sadly. “Well, you can have whatever you want for breakfast everyday now, if you want.” I followed him into the kitchen. Even before we entered, I could smell the food. I stopped at the end of the hallway, closing my eyes and holding onto the walls.

 

_ “Stevie, these are delicious! But how did you manage to get sugar? I thought we used up our ration.” _

_ “The old lady next door let me borrow some. I told her I was making pancakes for someone, and she told me she hoped the girl was pretty.” Steve smiled, cutting his own pancakes and taking a bite. _

_ “You punk! You lied to the old lady next door?” He nodded, and I couldn’t help but smile. That was my Steve, always trying to make me happy— _

 

“Bucky? You okay?” I opened my eyes to see Steve staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I just- I remembered something. I’m gonna go write it down.” I gestured over my shoulder, then headed down the hall to the guest room. I found my backpack on the floor next to the door, and after flicking through filled pages, I found a blank one and wrote down the memory. I wrote:

_ Steve made pancakes. Took sugar ration from the old lady next door. Lady thought he was making them for a girl. He made them for me. I called him a punk, but we were happy. _

Then I headed back into the kitchen where Steve was probably eating pancakes without me because who would wait for some guy who needs to write down his memories every time he remembers something?

He’d waited for me. I sat down next to him at the counter, and he passed me a plate of three pancakes and a bottle of syrup.

“Maple syrup? It’s so expensive, though, Steve.” I pushed the bottle back to him. “I’ll just eat ‘em plain.”

“Maple syrup isn’t as expensive these days, Buck. And besides, I’ve got enough money. You don’t have to eat the pancakes plain.” He picked up the bottle and drizzled syrup on my plate.

“Thank you.” I smeared the syrup over the food, cut a piece off, and took a bite. “Stevie, these are delicious!”

He laughed. “I’m glad you like them, but we’re gonna need to teach you some manners again.”

I looked up from my food that was already almost gone. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten this good in ages.”

Steve put his hand on my shoulder. “Well, you never have to go hungry again, Buck. I’ll make sure of it.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where are we going?” We’d been in the car for at least fifteen minutes, and I had no idea where we were.

“We’re going shopping for you.”

“You really don’t have to buy me clothing, Steve. I don’t need anything. I’ll just wash the shirt and jeans and jacket that I already have.”

Steve sighed. He always sighed when I said things like that, telling him he shouldn’t do nice things for me ‘cause I didn’t deserve it. “You can’t live off of one set of clothing, Buck. It doesn’t work like that. You gotta turn your life around.”

“I lived off one set of clothing for months. I don’t need more clothing.” I drummed my metal fingers against the plastic water bottle I was holding. I didn’t deserve Steve’s love. Maybe I wanted it, but I definitely didn’t deserve it.

“You’re getting more clothing, and that’s final, James.” James. Who was James? Did I know him? Was I James? No, I couldn’t be. I was Bucky, Bucky Barnes. That was what Steve said, and that was what was written in my notebook. 

“Who is James?” Steve didn’t say anything; he just pulled into the car park of what I assumed was the shopping mall. He parked the car and got out. I followed. I didn’t know what I did wrong, but he seemed mad at me. I just asked a question. Maybe I should just be quiet and obey orders. That was easier. I obeyed the orders, and I didn’t get hurt. I killed the people they wanted me to kill because that was what I was taught. I jogged to catch up with the captain. “Steve? Are you mad?”

He walked faster, so I was having a hard time catching up. “No.” His voice was hard and sharp.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve to be treated like a human being, but please just tell me who James is.” I hung back, walking behind him. He was the leader, so I was to follow.

He stopped and spun on me. “It’s you, Bucky. You’re James. But you can’t seem to remember that, so it doesn’t matter anyways.” I stopped walking. I was James. But I was also Bucky. Did I have two names? Was Bucky a nickname?

“I’m sorry. I’m trying, I really am.”

Steve softened and approached me, picking up my metal hand and running his thumb over the metallic fingers. “I know, Buck, I know.” He led me into the shopping mall with his arm around my lower back.

We strolled around, Steve’s hand occasionally brushing against mine as we walked, glancing into store windows. Steve hadn’t seemed to have found anything he liked, so we were still walking.

“Uh, Steve? When are we gonna stop?”

“You tell me, Buck. You haven’t expressed any interest in anything.”  _ I _ was supposed to make the decision of what to wear? Why me?

“You want  _ me _ to make the decision? You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. We’re practicing decision making. You’re free to make your own choices now, so we’re gonna practice.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t do it. I’ll tell you if I like something, but please don’t make me decide where to buy clothes. I don’t even know what most of these stores sell.”

“Clothing, Bucky. They sell clothing.” I rolled my eyes. I knew that. I was trying to tell him that I didn’t know what these brands were. He turned into a store called  _ American Eagle _ . Sounded pretty American to me. “I’ll choose the stores, but you have to choose the clothing. I’m not dressing you. You’re a grown man.”

I hung my head. I knew it was pathetic that I was a grown adult and couldn’t decide things for myself. “Yes, sir,” I whispered.

I wandered through the racks of clothing. So far I had found two tee-shirts, a pair of jeans, and a hoodie. Steve, on the other hand, was sporting a nice armful of clothing.

“Bucky, are you finished looking?”

“Yeah, do you want me to show you?” Steve replied with a yes, then found me in the aisle. Without speaking, he sifted through the items draped over my metal arm. I was using the clothes to hide it so people didn’t think I was a freak or a monster.

Placing the last one down again, he spoke up. “These are good, but you need more. And are they the right size for you? What’s your size?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably a large. That’s what I grabbed.”

“And for jeans?”

“Those had weirdly large numbers on them. I just kinda held them up to my legs and grabbed them if they looked like they might fit.”

Steve put his hand on his forehead. “That’s not how you do it. But I guess it’ll have to work for now. Let’s go have you try these on.”

************

In the dressing room, I pulled on a baby blue tee-shirt and a pair of black jeans that Steve had picked out for me.

“Buck? Find anything yet?”

“I think these fit.” I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked better than I had in years. The only problem was the arm. I tucked it behind my back. Better.

“You wanna show me?” Steve’s voice was gentle. He was asking permission, not telling me what to do.

“Um, sure. I guess you can see.” I opened the door, opting to look at the ground and not at Steve.

“Bucky… you look… wow.” I lifted my eyes, peering at him through long lashes. “The blue. It really brings out your eyes.”

“Is that good?” I dropped my gaze to Steve’s shoes. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye.

Steve stepped closer to me and guided my chin with his finger to look him in the eyes. “Yes, it’s good. You look wonderful.” He paused, looking like he was going to do something else, then stepped back. “Go try on some more stuff. I’m gonna keep looking. You’re gonna need more than just tee-shirts and jeans. I’ll find something nice for you.”

I nodded and went back into the dressing room. I tried on more clothing, but the whole time, I had this weird anxious feeling. I needed to look around every ten seconds to make sure everything was okay. It took awhile, but I had five tee-shirts, two hoodies, and three pairs of jeans that fit and that I liked. Then there was a knock on the door. I jumped and grabbed at the side of my thigh for my knife. It wasn’t there.

“Bucky? Is everything okay in there?” It was just Steve.

I took a deep breath before replying. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I found —” I cut myself short. Don’t offer more information than is asked for. Offering more than is asked of you can lead to bad situations. I’d learnt that the hard way.

“You found what?” I didn’t answer. “Bucky? Can I come in please?” I had just taken off the trousers I was trying on, so I was just in a tee-shirt and my briefs. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not mad. It’s okay.” Something inside me told me he was telling the truth, so I unlocked the door. He walked in, shut the door behind him, and went directly over to where I had separated the clothing I liked. “Is this what you want?”

“It’s what fits, but if it’s too much money, or you don’t think they’re good, then we don’t have to get them. The blue shirt and black jeans are fine.” I pulled back on the clothes I’d been wearing before.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. These are good.” He picked up the clothing and draped them over his forearm. “We have to go to a different store for your nice clothing.”

I followed him out of the dressing room. “Really, Steve, it’s okay. I don’t need anything else.”

Steve stopped suddenly, and I stopped with him. Following without being seen was a much-needed skill for being an assassin. “James Buchanan Barnes, I’m not gonna say it again. You need more than just a week’s worth of clothes. Now please just let me buy you clothing.”

I hung my head. “Yes, sir.” I must’ve made Steve angry because he spun on his heels and walked up to the cash register, paid for the clothing, then dragged me out of the store by my metal arm.

************

“Steve. Steve. Please.” I followed Steve into the apartment. He hadn’t spoken with anything but short, choppy orders to me since the first store.

Steve dropped the bags on the floor at the entrance to the short hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom. “Go put your stuff away.”

I picked the bags up and left with a small, “Yes, sir.” I took my walk of shame down to the guest bedroom that Steve had let take over as my bedroom. As I was hanging the clothes in the closet, I heard a noise by the door. I whipped my head around to see who it was. Steve. It was just Steve, leaning against the door with his blond hair glowing in the late afternoon light.

“I’m hanging them up,” I stated.

“I can see that.” He pushed himself off the door. “Do you want some help?” I shook my head. I didn’t need help. And why all of a sudden did he want to help me? He was mad at me just a few moments ago. I came to the button-down shirts I’d gotten, and I tried to be careful when hanging them up. Then there was a pair of hands holding onto mine and a warm chest pressed against my back.

“Careful, Buck.” He took the shirt from my hands, unbuttoned the top button, then handed it back to me. “Now you can hang it up without ripping it.”

I didn’t want him to stop touching me. He was warm, and he wasn’t angry at me. I liked it. So, I looked over my shoulder at him and said, “Help?”

“You want my help to hang them up?” I nodded, and he smiled. He moved to stand next to me, and we worked in silence. Then, when we finished, he decided to speak again. “Hey, Buck. Why don’t you get dressed into something comfortable like joggers and a hoodie, and we can eat some dinner?”

I frowned, scanning the clothing in front of me. “I don’t have anything comfortable to wear.” I gestured to the closet. Steve cursed under his breath. “Steve?”

“I’m sorry. I totally forgot to buy you joggers. Do you — do you maybe wanna wear some of mine?”

“It’s fine. I don’t need anything, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’ll be right back. Stay right here,” he ordered. So I did just that. I waited for him to come back.

He was gone for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. I counted. Steve rushed back into the room and looked around, as if he expected me to have moved from where he left me.

“Bucky? We need to work on this. If I tell you to stay where you are, I don’t mean literally stay in the exact same place. I mean don’t leave the room or go somewhere where I can’t find you.”

“I was following orders.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not giving you orders. That’s not how it works now.” But I didn’t know anything else. Steve handed me a pile of fabric. Clothing, actually, but it was kinda just a pile of soft fabric.

“What are these?”

“Clothes. Put them on. I’ll turn around.” Steve turned around to face the wall. I dropped the pile on the floor, then peeled my shirt from my body and picked up the top piece of clothing. It was kind of a shirt, but softer. Much softer.

“Steve? Why did you give me this?”

Steve turned around and smiled softly at me. I didn’t understand. I didn’t deserve a soft smile, especially not from Steve. “You needed comfortable clothing. Put the hoodie on.” I tried to find any indication on it which way was front. “Do you want help?” Then he changed his mind. “You know what? I’ll just help you.” He took the hoodie from me and helped me put it on. It was too big. He then helped me put on the flannel trousers, letting me hold onto his wide shoulders to steady myself. When everything was on, Steve stepped away from me. He looked me over and started laughing.

I started to take off the hoodie. “Please don’t laugh. I know I look stupid, but please don’t laugh.”

Steve placed his hands over mine to stop me. “No, don’t take it off. I didn’t mean to laugh at you, Buck. It’s just… the clothing… it’s a bit big on you.”

“I can see that, Captain Obvious.” After trying, and failing, to take the it off, I gave up and left the clothes on.

“Let’s go have some dinner. I’ll heat up some leftover pizza.” I followed him out of the room, glancing in the mirror at myself as I went out the door. It was weird to see myself like this. Actually, it was just weird to see myself in a mirror. I was clean. Clean and dressed in soft clothing that was at least a size too big for me. I didn’t deserve it. But I looked at Steve in the kitchen, smiling sweetly at me, and maybe I didn’t deserve to be happy, but he sure did.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke in a cold sweat. The blinking red clock beside the bed read 03:27. Then came a gentle voice and a comforting hand rubbing my shoulder.

“Hey, Buck. It’s okay. Just a nightmare.” Steve. It was Steve’s gentle voice. But it was too gentle. I didn’t want to have a sweet voice telling me everything was gonna be okay. Because it wasn’t.

“Stop it. Stop, stop, stop!”

There it was again. Steve’s sweet, musical voice. “What’s wrong, Buck?”

“Stop treating me like this! I don’t deserve it! I’m just a broken soldier nobody wants anymore. I failed the mission. I’m worthless. Just a waste of space and food and money.” I stood up beside the bed, unable to see in the pitch black of the night. I tripped over something, but I fell into a strong chest. Steve. “Let me go!”

“No, Bucky. You’re tired and confused. Go back to bed.”

“I’m not confused! Let me go!” I fought against his arms, but he held on.

“Bucky. Stop it. Now. Lay back down now,” he ordered. I continued to struggle against his grip. “Alright then. I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” He grabbed me by my shoulders and shoved me onto the bed again, pinning me down on my back. “Go to sleep.”

“No, I have to… I have to…” Above me, Steve’s eyes caught the moonlight. They were so pretty, pale blue, almost silvery, and shimmering in the light. I stopped trying to escape. “Steve…”

He smiled down at me, a hint of sadness behind his eyes. “Yeah, Buck, I’m right here.”

“Steve.” I couldn’t believe he was still here, still dealing with my messed up self.

“I’m right here. Let’s get you back to sleep, pal.” His voice was still gentle. He was always so gentle with me. I didn’t get it. How could he be so sweet with someone so messed up like me?

I wanted something, but I didn’t know if he’d accept. I tried anyways. “Stay with me?”

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” I nodded, and he waited a moment before responding. “I guess so. You have to actually go to sleep, though. You need sleep.”

“Please stay. I don’t wanna be alone. Please.”

“I know, Buck, I know. I’m gonna stay, pal. I promise.” There was that word. Promise. Did it actually mean anything though? Would I wake up again, and he’d be gone? I didn’t have time to ask questions, and I’d learnt before that questioning authority results in punishment, so I didn’t ask. Steve was pulling the duvet over my almost bare body. I snatched the blankets from him, pulling them quickly up to my chin. I didn’t want him to see my scars. I tried not to be shirtless around him. I always wore an undershirt to cover them up, but I didn’t wear an undershirt to bed. “Hey, hey. What’s the matter? I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just tucking you into bed.” I turned away, attempting to hide my face in the pillow. Steve got into bed beside me. He kept a good distance between us, but I could still feel his warmth radiating beneath the covers. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Night, Stevie,” I mumbled, my voice muffled by a pillow.

************

When I woke up again, I was trapped. Someone had their arms wrapped around my waist, and I couldn’t move. My heart was racing. I reached for my knife, but it wasn’t there. He took it. He took my knife. Told me I wasn’t allowed to have it, that we were safe here. But I wasn’t safe. I was trapped. I was almost naked, vulnerable. I bent my knee up and kicked backwards. The person groaned and moved backwards away from me.

“Bucky, stop it.”

I stopped moving. “Steve?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“You asked me to stay with you last night, remember?”

I tried to remember what happened last night. I had absolutely no recollection of telling him to stay. “No,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.” Steve looked at me with sad eyes, but told me it was okay. It wasn’t okay. “What happened last night? Why did I ask you to stay?”

“You… you had a nightmare and tried to run.”

“Did I hurt you?” He shook his head. I wrapped the sheets around my body, hiding myself from Steve. He placed a hand over mine that was clutching the sheets and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

“Can I see?”

I had an idea of what he meant, but I wanted to hear him say it so I could tell him how I really felt about it. “See what?”

“Your body. You keep hiding it from me.” He was asking, not ordering. I tried to remind myself of that, but my mind wouldn’t listen.

I hung my head and let go of the sheets I’d been clutching in my fist. “Yes, sir.” I closed my eyes.

Steve’s hands ever so gently pulled the sheets away from my body, and I sat up. “Bucky, I want you to know that I respect you. If you want me to stop, say so, and I will stop immediately, okay?” I didn’t reply. I couldn’t find my voice. Steve brushed his fingertips over my body, tracing all my scars. The ones on my shoulder and chest where my metal arm connects to my body from the countless times I’d tried to cut it from my body with a knife and peel it away with my own fingers. The ones on my back from being whipped until I passed out from the pain, then whipped some more. The ones on my sides from being cut by knives or grazed by bullets. The ones on my thighs from when I started to remember, to gain awareness, and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I took a blade to my thighs to relieve some of the mental pain. It hurt to remember. He traced over all of my scars, so much softer and sweeter than the things that created them. “Bucky…” he whispered.

“I’m sorry. I’m ugly.”

He moved himself behind me and traced patterns into the skin of my back. “No, you’re not ugly. Don’t call yourself that. You’re beautiful, Bucky, okay? Beautiful. A strong soldier, that’s what you are.”

“That’s all I am. A broken soldier. I don’t deserve to be here, Steve. You should’ve killed me on the helicarrier. It would’ve been better for both of us.”

Steve wrapped his arms over my stomach and chest and pulled me backwards to rest against his warm bare chest. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I…” Steve paused, and I closed my eyes and felt him trace patterns into the bare skin of my hips to fill the silence. “I care so much about you, Bucky. So, so much.” We sat in silence for a moment, as he let me take in all that had just happened. Then he spoke again. “Let’s go have something to eat. I’ll make you some coffee. How’s that sound?” I turned my head and smiled at him. That sounded very good. Steve left the room to give me a moment to compose myself. I picked up the shirt I’d worn yesterday off the floor, then threw a hoodie on over it. The hoodie was one of Steve’s, but I’d been wearing it for the past two days, so I figured it was safe to say he didn’t care if I wore it.

************

When I walked into the kitchen, I was met with a sight I didn’t like. Steve was sitting in my chair at the table and drinking coffee out of my mug. I walked over to him to give him a piece of my mind.

“Steve, you’re in my chair. And you’re drinking from my mug.”

Steve nearly spit out his coffee. “These aren’t yours.”

“Yes, they are. I always drink out of that mug, and I always sit in that chair when we eat.” I crossed my arms, a piece of my hair falling out of the messy bun and into my face.

“Listen, they’re not yours. I bought this mug and this chair. And the mug is just a regular blue mug. There are about five others identical to this one in the cupboard. Go find another mug and pour yourself some coffee.” I squeezed my eyes shut. He was giving orders, and my mind told me to obey them, but I didn’t want to. Steve was using my mug and sitting in my chair.

I took a deep breath. “Please, Stevie. I don’t have anything else. Please let me use that blue mug.”

“Why do you even want it? The handle’s broken. I should just toss it anyways.”

“No! Don’t toss it, please. It’s my mug.” I reached for the mug, but Steve stopped me.

“It’s broken, Buck. Broken things get tossed. They aren’t useful anymore.”

I stopped moving. Then I spoke in a calm and quiet voice, resigning. “I’m sorry you feel that way about broken things. I guess I’ll just leave now. I’m not useful anymore.” I turned around and began walking away to collect my few belongings.

Steve’s words caught up to him, and he tried to redeem himself. “Buck, that wasn’t what I meant.”

I didn’t turn around when I heard his footsteps coming towards me, but I did stop moving. “I know what you meant.”

Steve didn’t reply and instead wrapped his arms around me from behind. I stiffened, my breath quickening. “Relax, pal. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He lifted my hoodie a bit and rubbed his hand over my hip bone. “Haven’t you been wearing this for the past two days?”

“I like it.”

“We gotta clean it, though. It’s gonna be gross if we don’t.” He rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I’ve worn clothes for longer without washing them.”

“But you shouldn’t. It’s bad for your skin.” He hiked up the hoodie a bit to reveal a bit of my stomach. I forced the fabric back down.

“Like that matters.”

“It does matter. You’re trying to get better, right? So we need to wash your clothes.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Buck…”

“Steve…” I pulled away from his grip and turned to face him. “I’m not washing it.”

“Yes, you are. If you aren’t, I’ll take it off and wash it myself.” My eyes widened, and he realised what he’d said. “Shit, Buck, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant that I was going to make sure you washed it.”

“I don’t have anything, Steve. You took my chair and my mug, and now you’re gonna take my hoodie. Please just let me have something. I don’t have anything. Nothing. I haven’t had anything to call my own in over seventy years.” I spent more time in cryo than I did out, but the time spent out, which only amounted to a couple of years at most, I spent being abused and mind-wiped. I just wanted to have something that was all mine.

Steve’s eyes were sad. I didn’t mean to make him sad. “I know, Buck. If you let me take the hoodie to wash it, I promise I’ll give it right back when it’s washed.” I thought about it for a minute. Would he actually give it back? Did I trust him? I supposed I did trust him enough. But he also took my mug and my chair, so how did I know he wasn’t going to take my hoodie too?

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Now give me the hoodie, please.” I looked at him, not making any motions to do what he told me. “James. Off.” I slowly peeled the fabric from my body, but as I was removing it from my arms, my metal arm got caught. I was stuck. I couldn’t pull too hard because then I’d rip the fabric. I started to panic, breathing quickly and moving sharply. Steve caught my arm. “Hey, hey. Careful. Lemme help.” He gently got my arm unstuck from the hoodie. As soon as the fabric was off my body, I wrapped my arms over my stomach. Steve didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment. He left the room.

I knew it was bad of me to do this, but I couldn’t really bring myself to care. I grabbed another mug out of the cupboard and poured the rest of Steve’s coffee into it. Then, I took my mug and rinsed it out. I was going to claim back my mug. I used a towel to dry the inside of the cup, then poured myself some coffee. Once that part was settled, I took my coffee and sat in my chair. It was the chair that faced the window. The view from my chair was a beautiful one. I could see the city waking up, not that New York ever slept, but the sun would rise and I’d be able to see it. And when I was sitting awake at night, unable to sleep, I’d watch all the city lights and the sparse traffic that flowed even at 3 AM. Being trained in silence, I never woke Steve when I came to sit out here in the middle of the night with a cup of warm milk and honey that I’d made for myself. He didn’t need to know.

“Bucky? Are you drinking my coffee?”

I turned around in my chair to face him. “No. This is my coffee.”

“That’s the mug I was using, though…” He saw the mug on the counter that I had poured the rest of his coffee into and walked over to peer inside of it. “Did you pour the rest of my coffee into this one?” I nodded slowly, then lowered my chin and dropped my gaze, hands tightening on the warm mug that I held. “Bucky, we talked about this. You can’t just take things from other people.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry.”

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched. He pulled his hand away. “Buck, I’m not gonna hurt you, pal.” I knew that, theoretically, but he didn’t understand that everything in my brain said that punishment came after doing something someone didn’t like. He’d never understand. I would take the pain alone, just like I always did.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, can I bring him over to the tower today?” Steve paused, waiting for the person on the other end of the line to respond. “Two o’clock this afternoon? Yeah, sounds great. Thank you. See you soon.” He hung up the phone and placed it on the counter, turning his attention to me. “Buck, you’re going to see a doctor today.”

I jerked, nearly spilling leftover chicken and rice that I was eating for breakfast all over my nice cream-coloured cable-knit sweater. “I’m what?”

“You’re going to see the doctor. At two.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” His eyes rested on my arm, whose metal plates shifted and clicked. “Hey, woah. Buck?”

_ “Do not worry, soldat. The doctor will fix you.” The man’s eyes held nothing but a blankness, a silvery mirror in which I could see a reflection. Mine. No, not mine. His. Gash across the forehead. Crimson blood dripping down over the cheek. Eye swollen. Nothing below the cheekbones. The mask covered the mouth. Restrained. The arm clicked and sparked. A wire gone rogue, hissing pain through the shoulder, firing synapses in the brain. _

_ The doctor came. He shoved the soldier back into a chair. Pain seared through the back. The soldier thrashed about violently. _

_ “Soldat! Still!” The soldier stilled, dead-faced and empty. Eyes a void, iced over. I wasn’t him. I wasn’t him. I wasn’t -- _

“Bucky! Snap out of it!”

I gasped, choking for air like a fish out of water. I flailed my arms about, grasping onto Steve. “Stevie!” I sucked in air and sputtered. “Steve… I-- I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. This is why we’re going to the doctor. Also so he can look at your arm.” Steve brushed his hand over the junction where my skin met metal. “You still hurting?”

“It’s not that bad, I swear.” Steve rubbed a little harder, actually making contact this time. I winced.

“Not that bad, huh?”

“It’s not that bad, Steve,” I gritted through clenched teeth. The arm, which hadn’t been properly maintained for at least a year, rubbed harshly against the skin around it every time I moved. HYDRA had stopped fixing it before missions, and then the few months I’d been out of their hold, I didn’t have anywhere to go to fix it. Steve reached to touch it again, but I stopped him. “No touching.”

“Buck, the doc’s gonna need to touch it, you know.” Of course I knew that. That didn’t mean I liked it any better.

“No touching.” I stood and pushed in my chair, maybe a little too hard. It smacked against the table. I stopped and stared at the chair. My chair. Did I break it? I assessed the damage done. No damage. Steve stared at me, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Bucky?”

I turned on my heel and escaped to the guest bedroom where I still resided. Once in the room, I sat down cross-legged on the fluffy black rug next to the bed. I knew it seemed rather childish, but I needed to clear my head, and the bed was too soft. I tried to close my eyes. The images. They kept coming back.  _ Soldat. Soldat.  _ So much pain.  _ No. Go away. Go away. Please. _

I didn’t notice I was whimpering in pain or that I was clawing at the metal until large warm hands grabbed onto my own cold ones. I looked up. Steve’s eyes pooled with sadness. I reached out to touch the corners of his mouth and make him smile again.

“Steve, don’t be sad.”

He shook his head. “No, bud. It’s okay. I’m not sad.” He knelt down next to me. “When was the last time you had a bath?” I held up three fingers. “Three days ago? God, Buck. You gotta shower more often than that. You want me to show you how to run a bath?”

“A bath?” I hadn’t had one of those in… I didn’t remember the last time I’d taken a real bath.

“Yeah, and I can help you wash your hair if you want.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry, Steve.” I dropped my head onto Steve’s chest. He gasped, but slowly, he wrapped his arms around my body. I needed him. I knew now that it used to be me caring for his sickly self, but now, he was older than me, bigger than me, more stable than me. He woke up in 2011. He used to be a year younger than me, but he’s spent more time out in the world than I have now. I must be at least two years younger than him and infinitely less stable.

I didn’t let myself cry. I wouldn’t. Steve guided me to standing, then kept his arm around me, like I would break, as we walked to the bathroom. I sat on the top of the closed toilet, tapping my fingers against my thigh while Steve made sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold.

“Steve?”

He turned around. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Do I still have to go to the doctor today?”

He nodded. “Yes. He needs to look at your arm and see if there’s any way to get those trigger words out of your head.” I sighed. Steve dipped his hand into the bath to test the water. He dried his hand on his jeans and pushed himself to his feet. “Perfect. You can get in now.” I slowly started to tug my hoodie off. Steve still didn’t turn around.

“Are you staying?” I asked.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Part of me wanted him to be there, but the other part said no.  _ Bucky, you’re a grown man. You don’t need Steve to stay while you take a bath. _

“It’s up to you.” I nodded. “Is that a yes to me staying?” I nodded again. “Do you need help with your clothes?” I shook my head. I was a grown man. I didn’t need help taking off my clothes. I was still nervous about Steve seeing my skin, but it would’ve been rude to make him turn around. So, I carefully removed all my clothing, folding it up and placing it gingerly on the counter.

Steve was right. The water  _ was _ perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. I sighed as I slid down into the bathtub. I glanced up at Steve. He was smiling. I made Steve smile. I tried to smile back, but that made his eyes sad.

“Why are you sad?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, bud.”

I dropped my gaze to the water. “You’re always sad with me.”

“No, no, no.” Steve knelt down next to the tub and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“But you’re sad because I’m not the person you wanted me to be.”

“You’re exactly the person I want you to be.”

My metal hand curled into a fist. “Cut the bullshit, Steve. I’m not him. I’m not who you wanted me to be.”

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking calmly. “James--”

“My name is Bucky.”

“You’re right. Of course.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, even though it was already pushed back. “Bucky, I know you’re not the man you used to be--”

“I don’t even feel like a man anymore,” I mumbled.

“But it doesn’t matter to me. The man you are now is exactly the man who I need in my life, understood? I want you, Buck. You. Not the man that you were seventy-something years ago, but the man you are today.”

I closed my eyes. Too many emotions. My brain wasn’t equipped to handle this yet. HYDRA had built me to be a cold-blooded killer, a machine, not a human with emotional capabilities. “Stevie,” I whimpered, “please wash my hair.”

“Of course, buddy.” His voice was too soft, too gentle for me. I didn’t deserve that gentleness. The shampoo bottle clicked open, then came the quiet sound of shampoo squirting into Steve’s palm. Then he poured warm bath water over my head. I sighed and let tension go from my body. Steve’s hands came next, large, strong hands massaging my scalp. This was the gentlest anyone had touched my head as far as I could remember. I made a noise very unlike anything I could remember making, and Steve chuckled. “Feels nice, huh?”

“Yeah. Did we… nevermind.”

“Did we do what?”

I shook my head. “Nevermind. I don’t need to know.”

“No, you can ask. Did we do what?” Steve insisted.

“Did we… did we ever take baths like this when we were younger?” Steve didn’t respond right away. His mouth paused. His hands paused. “Steve? Nevermind. You don’t need to answer. I’m sorry for asking.”

“Yeah. We did. Sometimes. Mainly when I was too sick to move, and you helped me because I couldn’t do it myself.” The corners of his lips turned up slightly, reminiscing. “Now, I get to pay you back for that. I get to help you.”

“I’m not sick. And I can move. You shouldn’t have to help me.”  _ Bucky, you’re a grown man. Get it together. _ I squeezed my eyes shut. I just wanted my mind to stop being so loud. “Steve,” I whimpered, “it’s too loud. Make it stop. Please.” The noises grew louder, intermingled with high pitched ringing. “Steve! Make it stop, please!” So much noise. Ringing. Louder. Louder. Higher. Higher. I thought I was screaming. But maybe it was him. So much noise. Make it stop. Make it stop.  _ You will never be worth his time. You are not what he wants. You were only good for killing, but look at you now. A broken soldier. Useless. Rubbish. _ Make it stop. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Ringing. Louder, louder, louder.  _ You useless being, not even human. Not even -- _

************

Steve was holding me over a toilet when I came to, pulling back my hair while I threw up. My mouth tasted of bile and tears. I was still wet and naked from the bathtub. I knew it was Steve because the person smelled like Steve and sounded like Steve as he said, “Shh… It’s gonna be okay, Buck. You’re gonna be okay.” It wasn’t going to be okay. It had never been okay. Steve rubbed his hand up and down my bare back. Everything ached, from my throbbing head to the clenching muscles in my legs.

“Ste-” I couldn’t get the whole word out before more vomit was coming up my throat and out my mouth. I threw up again and again until I was just dry heaving. Steve had tied my hair back with a spare hair tie he always kept on his wrist, and now, he reached for the hand towel hanging next to the sink. He dabbed my mouth with the towel, gently ridding me of any bile on my lips. Then he turned the towel around to a clean side and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Steve wrapped his arms around me and tugged me into his lap, then smoothed his hand over my hair.

“How much of that do you remember?” His voice wasn’t angry. He wasn’t mad about me sitting naked and wet in his lap like a child.

I took a moment to breathe before responding: “There was a lotta noise. And a high-pitched ringing. Then I was throwing up over the toilet.”

Steve dropped his head back against the cabinets. “Shit. You blacked out for a few minutes at least then, Buck.”

I rested my head against his chest and curled in on myself, making myself as small as I could to fit completely on Steve’s lap. “Did I hurt you?” Blacking out usually resulted in someone getting hurt. I didn’t want to hurt Steve.

“No. Are you hurt anywhere?” Everywhere. I was hurting everywhere. But I didn’t tell Steve that because I didn’t want him to worry. He worried enough about me already. So I shook my head. He rubbed his hand over my bare hip and outer thigh. “Are you lying to me?” I shook my head again. “Bucky…”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Bucky, pain isn’t relative. Are you in pain?” His voice told me that he was worried, that he was serious about this.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know?’”

I fiddled with the drawstrings on Steve’s hoodie. “I don’t think I’ve had a day where I’m not in pain, so I’ve learned to ignore it.”

Steve was silent for a minute, rocking me gently back and forth and tracing shapes on my bare skin. Finally, he spoke again. “Are you cold?”

“I’m always cold.” Cryo had screwed up my body temperature. My body temperature was always too low for a normal human body temperature, causing me to be cold, even in the summers.

“Let’s get you dressed then. Do you wanna wear my comfortable clothes today?” He started to move me in his lap.

“I wanna wear my hoodie.”

“Buck, your hoodie’s in the wash.” But I wanted my hoodie. “I can get you one of mine though, if you’d like that.”

“Steve, I wanna wear my hoodie. Please.”

“Bucky, it’s in the wash. I can’t do anything about that. I like that you’re expressing want, that’s a good thing, but I can’t get your hoodie for you.” I didn’t respond to that. I was trying to act like a man again. Steve moved me from his lap, stood, then lifted me from under my arms and moved one hand to support me so he could carry me.

“Steve,” I softly protested, not really wanting to be put down, but also not wanting him to think of me as a child. “Put me down.” He didn’t put me down. Instead, he pulled me closer to his chest, adjusting his arms so he could support my weight better.

He placed me carefully on his bed, then opened the closet and began sifting through his clothes.

“Steve,” I argued, “they’re gonna be too big.”

He didn’t stop what he was doing. “That’s the point. They’ll be comfortable. He laid out a pair of form-fitting athletic trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hoodie. “Here.” He picked up the trousers and held them out for me. “Put these on.”

“I need boxers.” Steve tossed me boxers. I stood and held the boxers in front of myself to cover up. I was bare, vulnerable. Steve didn’t turn around like I expected him to. Instead he asked:

“Are you going to put them on? Do you need help?” I shook my head and stepped into the boxers, then into the trousers, then tugged on the shirt, then the hoodie. I wrapped my arms over my stomach, refusing to look at Steve. The captain stepped into my space. “Cosy now, bud?” There was that name again. It made me feel all weird inside.

I nodded. “What time is it?”

Steve glanced at the clock behind me. “A little after noon.” I sighed. It was gonna be a long day. Steve picked up my flesh hand and ran his thumb over the ridges on the top of my hand. “You hungry at all?”

I shook my head. “I think…” Steve waited. “I think I wanna sleep.” Steve reached around my back and pulled me to his chest, letting me rest my cheek on his shoulder while he ran his fingers through my hair.

“You have to go to the doctor’s in a couple hours.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Steve sighed. “You can’t just tell me you don’t want something, and it’ll magically go away. You’re going to the doctor’s. End of story.”

I dropped my head. “Yes, sir.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve stepped into what he was calling the doctor’s office. It wasn’t. It was a lab. I refused to go in.

“Come on, Buck,” he coaxed, his voice the kind of gentle you’d use on a child. A man stepped out of the lab, wearing a lilac button down and jeans. Steve introduced him: “Bucky, this is Dr. Banner. He’s gonna help you.”

The man, Dr. Banner, stuck his hand out. I backed up and hugged my hands into my chest. He was going to hurt me. I knew it. “Don’t touch me.” My heart pounded, a bird trying to fly free from its cage, wings beating hard against my ribs.

Steve approached me with palms up and arms extended. “Bucky, please. Let Dr. Banner help you. I’ll be there the whole time.” He then turned to the doctor. “He’s had a rough morning. Blacked out twice before noon.”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised. “Twice?” Steve nodded. “Wow.” He then addressed me, taking his hands out of his pockets and showing them to me. “Bucky, your arm’s been hurting you, hasn’t it? And your mind. You can’t get those noises out of your head, right?” He was right. I slowly nodded. “Yeah? I have those noises, too, sometimes. Can I help you quiet them?”

A tear slipped down my cheek. “Please. It hurts so bad.” The doctor gestured for me to follow him into the lab. I looked to Steve to make sure he would follow.

“I’m coming too, Buck; don’t worry.” Good. I followed Dr. Banner into the room.

************

“That hurts, huh?” I nodded, feeling dizzy with the pain. Dr. Banner pressed his hand on the juncture between metal and flesh, and I whimpered. “Alright, James--”

“My name is Bucky. Please call me Bucky.”

“Okay. Bucky, I’m going to inject something to numb your arm, okay? It’s gonna pinch.”

“Just do it. HYDRA did worse and they didn’t warn me.” I saw Steve’s eyes widen at my comment. I kept talking. “It’s true. They just put me in the chair, or on the table when it was really bad, and stuck the needle in. I’m a machine. You don’t warn machines that you’re gonna fix ‘em.” While I was talking, the doctor put the needle into my shoulder, making the whole shoulder and arm numb. “They didn’t even numb the body. Couldn’t. The body processed it too fast.”

Dr. Banner looked up from where he was cleaning the skin next to my arm. “This anaesthetic should work. It works on Steve, and your body is similar to his.” I was like Steve, he said. But I wasn’t. Steve was an angel, perfect and golden. I was a monster, a broken and useless soldier with no mission.

Steve stepped up to hold my human hand. “Ya hear that, Buck? It won’t hurt this time.”

“Until I get wiped again. That always hurts.” I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was getting wiped again. It was inevitable. That was what the doctors did.

“We’re not going to wipe your brain; we just need to do a scan.”

“Can I go to sleep for it? Please?” I just wanted to sleep. “I’m so, so tired.” I rolled my head over to Steve, looking at him with pleading eyes. Steve exchanged some sort of nonverbal dialogue with the doctor, then the doctor said:

“Yes. Do you want Cap to be with you while you’re being scanned?” My eyes darted between the doctor and the captain, then I nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna have Tony look at your arm after your scan, but the pain should be numbed for at least a few hours.”

I looked up at Steve. “Tony?”

The doctor answered the question for me. “Tony Stark. He’s an expert on tech like your arm. He’ll be able to fix it for you.”

_ Asset, you are to find Howard and Maria Stark tonight. Retrieve the briefcase of test tubes in the back of the car. Use whatever means necessary to get the case. _

I shook my head, panic building. “No, please, I can’t--I can’t see Stark. I can’t--I--I--”

Steve grabbed my chin. “Bucky, calm down. Now. It’s okay. Tony is a nice man, and he’s going to help you. He won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“No, I-- I can’t. I--” I couldn’t finish my sentence before Steve was interrupting me.

“Shh…” He smoothed my hair back with his large, gentle hand. “Just go to sleep, Buck. Everything’s gonna be okay.” I had permission. It was an order. Sleep. Oh god, did I want to sleep. I let my eyes slip shut. Steve’s fingers carded through my hair, and he spoke softly. “That’s it. Good.”  _ I’m good. I’m doing a good job _ .

************

I awoke to a gentle humming near my left arm. I rolled my head to the side to see a man with dark hair leaning over my arm, poking around in the open panels. This was not Steve. I sat up suddenly, knocking the man away in the process.

“Where’s Steve? I need him.”

The man grabbed my arm and put a hand on my chest to shove me back down onto the table. “He went to get coffee, Sarge. He’ll be back. Now stay still and let me fix this damn arm of yours.”

I didn’t try to break free, but I didn’t relax either. “Who are you?”

“Tony.” Oh shit. Tony Stark.

“I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and waited for the blows to come, but they didn’t.

“Sorry?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know-- I wasn’t-- I’m sorry,” I apologised profusely.

Tony gently smoothed his hand over my chest where he’d been holding me down. “Hey, listen. It’s okay. You don’t need to apologise.” I squeezed my eyes shut. He was too gentle. I killed his parents. And now I wanted to die too. It was too much. Tony’s voice sounded so far away when he said, “Barnes. Barnes, stay with me.” He sounded miles away when he started yelling. “Rogers! Banner!” I couldn’t focus on one thing. My mind jumped from one thing to another. Steve.  _ Asset. _ Little guy from Brooklyn.  _ Soldat _ . No. No. No. Steve. Steve. Heavy footsteps came running, but I was drifting away, floating on a cloud. No, not a cloud. A raft. A battered and broken raft in the middle of a vast ocean. I lay there, bobbing on the waves, and rested my eyes.

************

“Bucky. Hey, Buck, you gotta wake up, pal,” whispered a gentle voice above me, fingers, which I assumed were connected to the voice, smoothed my hair. For the second time, I awoke on a table. This time, though, Steve was there. I’d recognise his voice anywhere. I tried to sit up, but Steve pushed me back down. “Shh… sit up slowly.” Then he released his hand, and I followed orders. I slowly sat upright and looked around the room. We were still in the lab. I let Steve manually move my legs to hang over the side of the table. I let him pull me into his chest and whisper, “We’re gonna get through this. Everything’s gonna be okay.” I had come far, and I still had a long way to go, but in that moment, I believed him.

 


End file.
